I couldn't tear my eyes away from Uncle Dominic, his face etched with a stern expression as he locked eyes with Uncle Jurius. The words he had just uttered left me dumbfounded, and even my cousins were rendered speechless.
I stared at them, desperately trying to make sense of what I heard. Was it really true? I longed for confirmation, but nobody seemed willing to speak up.
My mom wept uncontrollably in my father's embrace, her cries reverberating through the room. He held her tightly while Uncle Jurius remained emotionless, his gaze fixed on Uncle Dominic's reaction.
I felt a tremor run through me, unable to utter a single word. It was as if my whole system had shut down, and I desperately needed someone to recharge me. I nearly stumbled, but Brian caught me just in time.
"Sharmienne..." My mom's voice reached out to me, sounding different, like a tone I had longed to hear for years. It felt like discovering a new favorite song.
My relationship with my mother had always been lukewarm. Ever since I left to be with Denver, she never bothered to reach out or ask about my life. I was never the favorite, and I had come to accept that.
If Uncle Jurius was telling the truth, then the reasons behind my mother treatment of me were finally becoming clear. The way she made me feel like an outsider in her own family, the way she wanted me out of her life.
"How did this happen?" Brian's voice was filled with seriousness as he confronted his father. "Enough with the theatrics, Dad. I don't want anything to do with the company. It was never ours to begin with."
Xyxie's gaze shifting towards Uncle Dominic. Recognition flashed across her face, amplified by the longer she stared. "You and Aunt Laurienne were a couple back in high school. My mother showed me a class picture with both of you."
I trembled even more. I turned to my father, who appeared lost, his eyes wandering as if burdened with deep contemplation, his presence lost in that moment.
"Xyxie..." Brian interrupted her. "Please."
"Your sister is right, Brian." Uncle Jurius confirmed, putting everything into perspective. "Sharmienne is the result of a mistake."
"Enough!" My mother's voice erupted, her tone pleading. "Jurius, you have no right to dictate our choices. You're out of this."
"Alright, alright." Uncle Jurius chuckled, raising his arms in mock surrender. "I'll go fetch my wife. Good luck explaining everything, dear sister-in-law."
He stormed out, delivering a forceful tap on my father's shoulder before slamming the door shut. Even the police officer present was taken aback by the suddenness of his departure. My gaze shifted to my father, who remained frozen in place, his eyes fixed on the floor as he cradled and consoled my weeping mother in his arms.
"We need to talk, Laurienne," Uncle Dominic's voice broke the heavy silence as he glanced at her. His stare then shifted to my father, who seemed to comprehend the gravity of the situation. I desperately wanted to ask him if he had known all along. The burning question lingered at the tip of my tongue.
He appeared wounded, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. It was as if he had been betrayed, a deep hurt etched across his face.
"M-mom..." I managed to stutter, capturing her attention. "I...is it true?"
My mother's gaze met mine, her eyes welling up with tears. "Oh, God..."
"M-mommy..." I pleaded, my voice cracking. "Please... just tell me. Is it true? Am I not my father's daughter? Am I not a Golieza?"
She approached me, enfolding me in a tight embrace. In that moment, my heart shattered, as if her actions had already provided the answer to my relentless questions.
"M-mom..." I whispered, my hope waning as I begged her for a response. But all she could do was weep, her tears dampening my shoulder. "Mom..."
My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle to fill my lungs. Collapsing into my mother's arms, I witnessed my father, motionless and silent. His pain mirrored my own, and the realization of encountering him like this was beyond my wildest imagination.
"Daddy..." I called out, still wrapped in my mother's embrace. "Did you...did you know about this?"
His eyes, bloodshot and haunted, met mine. He fought to control his voice, clearing his throat before speaking. "I knew, Sharmienne."
My world crumbled even further. My arms slipped from around my mother, dropping limply at my sides. Numbness enveloped me, rendering me incapable of feeling anything. My very existence felt like a question mark.
"Please...someone, anyone, just answer me!" I pleaded, my desperation consuming me. I struggled to find my voice, unsure of how to react or what to say.
"It's true, Sharmienne. I am your father." Mr. Galvosa's words hung in the air, leaving me speechless. The warmth my mother had offered felt distant, as a chilling coldness settled within me.
"When you were born, your mother and Lucius were not on good terms," he continued, his words failing to register in my overwhelmed mind.
"You cheated, Mom?" I pushed her away, my anger building. She sobbed uncontrollably, and my father reached out to console her, shaking his head at me. "Answer me!"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh my god!" I sobbed, my eyes darting towards my father, his emotions now restrained but his eyes still bloodshot. He knelt beside my mother, offering her support as her tears flowed freely. I stood frozen in place, on the verge of crumbling once more.
"All this time...I was a mistake?" I seethed, my fury consuming me. Tears streamed down my face. "I was so blind not to realize that I wasn't my father's daughter? My father loved me despite the truth! I never felt unwanted with his words and affection. And now I discover that you, Mom, were the one who betrayed him? How could you!"
Rage engulfed me, and all I could do was shout. My cousins made no attempt to intervene. Nobody could stop me now. The people I trusted had betrayed me.
"And you, Mr. Galvosa? You lied to me. You never revealed the truth about being my father. Never! How could you?"
"It was to protect you," he responded calmly. "I never intended to ruin your family. I never forced myself into your life. All I wanted was to protect you because you are my daughter."
"You still lied. You all betrayed me!" I wept, my vision blurred by tears. I yearned to escape, to flee from this hospital room. I longed to be anywhere but here, to run away from this painful truth.
I stormed out of the room, unaware that someone was following me. I sprinted through the streets, but dizziness threatened to overtake me. Consumed by anguish, all I craved was to forget. To numb the pain.
"Sharmienne!"
A voice called out urgently, and before I could even turn around, a firm hand grabbed mine, swiftly spinning me to face its owner.
"Who made you cry?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. It was as if danger itself emanated from him.
His voice, his striking features, and those piercing gray eyes—it was him. Tears streamed down my face even more as I laid eyes on him once again. With gentle gestures, he wiped away my tears and caressed my wet cheeks.
"Who made you cry, my wife?" he inquired, concern etched in his expression. But at that moment, all I craved was to hear his voice, to seek solace in his presence. Clutching my chest, I leaned into him, seeking comfort and warmth. "Sharmienne."
"Please, let's get out of here," I pleaded, my voice on the verge of collapsing. I yearned to surrender myself to his embrace once more.
"Open the door," he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos that surrounded us. His words reached my ears just before darkness engulfed my senses, and I slipped into unconsciousness.
I felt a heaviness as soon as I woke up. As my eyes adjusted to the illuminated light in the room, I immediately realized that I wasn't in my own room. I stood up and decided to explore the condominium. A sigh escaped me as I realized how familiar this place was.
The condominium had a minimalist interior, with a color scheme of black, white, and gray. There was a staircase with built-in cabinets underneath, serving as storage for books and linens. The polished wooden floor added a touch of elegance.
I reminisced about the first time I came here. It was when Denver drove me to this place. It was also the moment when he presented me with the marriage contract. I could say that this place was where everything happened in an instant.
"Denver?" I called out through the walls as I searched for him. It felt like no one was here, yet the lights were turned on. It was already night when I woke up.
I headed straight for the kitchen. It was on the opposite wall, looking organized with a combination of white and black wood. The island served as a dining table, complete with bar stools that could accommodate two to three people. It all felt familiar to me.
I noticed that he had added a closet for wines and beverages. I was tempted to grab a drink as memories flooded back to me. The truth, the confirmation... it all crashed down on me.
I grabbed a bottle and started drinking. I wanted to finish it before Denver saw me. I knew it was him who witnessed my vulnerability outside the hospital. I knew he had been watching over me since the day we parted ways. He silently protected me by keeping me guarded.
As memories flooded my mind, I couldn't help but sigh. It was difficult to accept. I couldn't accept that I wasn't a Golieza. My entire identity felt like... a mistake.
Their confirmation... I was the result of a mistake. My mother had cheated on my father. I couldn't even begin to comprehend or delve deeper into that information. The thought of it disgusted me.
How could my mother do that to my father? How could she engage in an affair while they were bound by the sacred vows of marriage? How could she? I couldn't bear to delve into the sordid details of her infidelity, for the mere thought of it filled me with immense pain. 
My father deserved so much better. He didn't deserve this. He stayed with my mother, providing care and support, even though he knew deep down that I wasn't his biological child. 
The realization that my existence was born out of deception and betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow. The foundation of my identity crumbled, leaving behind a void filled with confusion and anguish.
I found myself unable to confront them in my current stateas overwhelmed by the pain coursing through my veins. I wasn't prepared to face my parents, not in the midst of such agony. The weight of the truth was too heavy for me to bear, and acceptance felt like an insurmountable task. 
The blow struck me with such force that I felt my composure shatter into a million pieces. The disbelief engulfed me, rendering me unable to control my own reactions. The pain was so raw, so deep, that it clouded my thoughts and left me paralyzed in a state of emotional turmoil. The wounds were still fresh, and I couldn't bring myself to expose them to further anguish.
I rested my head on the countertop, still clutching the half-empty bottle of wine. Its effects were beginning to make me feel drowsy, but I resisted the urge to succumb completely. I glanced out the window, my heart heavy with the realization that waiting for Denver was a mistake. I shouldn't have assumed that he would come to take care of me, even though I was certain it was him I saw before I lost consciousness. He shouldn't see me in this state—wasted and vulnerable.
Denver wouldn't want someone like me, especially now that I knew I was born out of a mistake. I shouldn't force or hope for us to reconcile. After all, who would want to be with someone who was the result of a grievous mistake? No one.
"Sharmienne?"
The sound of the door opening reached my ears, but I didn't even lift my head. I knew it was my husband returning home. I made no effort to pretend to be asleep. I simply didn't want to see him in my current condition. I wanted to shield him from the sight of me, broken and shattered.
He let out a sigh before placing something beside me. He gently took the bottle from my hand, the one I had been clinging to, and planted a tender kiss on my forehead. His fingers delicately smoothed my hair, tucking a few strands behind my ear. He wiped away tears that I hadn't even noticed were streaming down my face. I was so numb from the weight of the truth that I couldn't even feel the pain at that moment.
"You've been through so much, my wife," he whispered, his words filled with a mixture of compassion and concern. I felt him about to lift me, and as I opened my eyes, our gazes met. He froze in place, realizing that I was awake. He stood there, regaining his composure, unaware that I had witnessed his tender gestures.
"Denver..." I uttered, my voice trembling as tears continued to fall.
"Let's go back to our room, it's cold here," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. 
I nodded, mustering the strength to compose myself, and stood by his side. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, and then he sighed, understanding the depth of my pain. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into an embrace I never knew I needed. And in that moment, I allowed myself to break down.
Tears streamed down my face as I unleashed all the pain and betrayal I had been harboring. I clung tightly to his shirt, as if holding onto him would keep me from falling apart. He held me with an unwavering strength, his embrace becoming a lifeline for my shattered heart. I buried my face in his firm shoulders, seeking solace in his warmth and craving the reassurance only he could provide.
"Denver... I am not a Golieza..." I repeated the words, my voice trembling with a mix of pain and confusion. He sighed, understanding the weight of my revelation, and gently carried me to our room. He placed me down on the bed and carefully laid me on the mattress.
"It was Mr. Galvosa. Your father," he whispered, seeking confirmation from him. He tenderly ruffled my hair, a silent affirmation of his knowledge.
"W-why didn't you tell me?"
"Calm down first," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "It was my mission to protect you, wife. I wasn't in a position to disclose that information, even Dad asked me not to tell you."
I took a deep breath, attempting to steady myself amidst the overwhelming emotions. "P-please, explain," I pleaded, tears still streaming down my face. The seriousness in his tone compelled me to listen, even in the midst of my turmoil. He knew. They knew.
Hurt and pain flickered in his eyes as he prepared himself to share the painful truth. "Please, listen to me first, Sharmienne," he requested, his voice filled with a mixture of sincerity and apprehension.
I nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at me. He allowed me a moment to calm down, handing me a glass of water from the bedside table. The room fell into silence, the weight of his deep sighs filling the air, conveying his nervousness. I couldn't be certain.
"Maybe we can wait until tomorrow?" he suggested, his concern evident. "You're drunk—"
"I'm sober," I interjected, my voice resolute.
"When did you start drinking?" he asked. 
"Since the moment you let go of me..."
"Sharmienne..."
"Please, Denver... Just tell me about my father. You knew about this too?" I implored, seeking his reassurance. He nodded, his gaze unwavering, confirming my suspicions.
"Since when?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, struggling to comprehend the timeline of his knowledge.
"The day I took you from your parents' house," he revealed, his voice tinged with regret. "I had suspicions about your mother's treatment of you. I conducted my own investigations, but I couldn't find concrete evidence. I couldn't simply approach your father and ask him directly."
"Then, through my missions, I stumbled upon this truth. When I was separated from you, and during that time when Daniel took you away from me. He received a mission, and he informed me that it came from The Master."
"The Master?" I questioned, the name sending a chill down my spine. Though I was familiar with that name.
"I'm certain Daniel has mentioned him to you. The Master was the one who ordered Daniel to take you away from me," he continued, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. "And The Master is none other than Mr. Galvosa. He's your father, Sharmienne."